


AU: No Sanctuary

by notmuchmoretosay



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Adult Language, Carl Lives, I promise, M/M, Major Character Injury, Michonne's rainbow cat has an arc, References to Suicide, References to Torture, Rick dies immediately, also Carl gets to meet RJ, also all Negan's wives have names because they deserve it, and Hershel, but Jerry's kids do!, coco never exists, discriminatory dialogue regarding abelism homophobia and classism, follows aspects from both the show and the comic series, gore and body horror, i am just putting all the dark stuff out here so nobody gets caught off guard, inexplicit past non-con, inexplicit sexual references, infertile negan, major character deaths, pacifist carl, references to colonisation and slavery, sounds dark but there are also a lot of light moments, which is all we really want right?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29778990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmuchmoretosay/pseuds/notmuchmoretosay
Summary: Stale M&M's AU - Season 7 Episode 16 onward: In a turn of events, Alexandria loses the battle against the Saviors and Scavengers, Rick is murdered, the deal between Negan and Jadis is sealed, and Carl, Oliver, and Judith are kidnapped to the Sanctuary. The boys have to choose between standing up and fighting for their freedom, or bending to Negan's will and accepting the new world order.
Relationships: Aaron/Eric Raleigh, Carl Grimes/Original Male Character(s), Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 4





	1. I: First Day of the Rest of Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After witnessing a horrific murder, Carl is forced to begin facing the reality of living under Negan's roof, while also worrying for the safety of his friends and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the fanfic series, Stale M&M’s, with an alternate plot-line near the end of part 3, Lost Boy, in which Hilltop and Kingdom do not step in on time to save Alexandria in the battle against the Saviors and the Scavengers. It also takes heavy inspiration from the comic books, especially in the third act (chapters 20 – 31). Our main characters are Carl Grimes and Oliver de Luca, who are 15yo and 16yo respectively in the first act (chapters 1 – 9), and then they’re in their 20s for the second, third, and fourth act. Chapters will alternate between their POVs, indicated by their names at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Special thank you VerbalWalker for your endless help with the planning of this AU. This would still be a skeleton without your imagination and advice! Go check out their story, 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', too!
> 
> Enjoy.

ACT ONE: THE WAR

* * *

**FALL  
2012**

* * *

_~ Carl ~_

* * *

Through the tiny, murky window, I watch the sun as it sets across the Sanctuary factory, casting dull dust-streaks across this otherwise grey room that Negan has assigned to me. He said I should feel lucky I'm in here, in this small, square room, instead of in solitary confinement like Daryl had been when he was a prisoner here. This feels like something similar, though. Negan wouldn't tell me where my sister is. He hasn't let me see another person at all since he left me in here hours ago, unless I count the walkers I can just make out through the window all the way down in the foggy, dirt courtyard, guarding at the gates.

Beside me, on a small nightstand, there is a stained vase filled with wilting dandelions. I throw it across the room. The shatter of glass against cement rings in my ears. I gulp back heavy breaths, afraid my heart might thump right out of my throat, so I sit on the bed again and sink my face into my hands.

This morning plays through my head again.

❂:❂:❂:❂

" _Well shit, Rick," Negan sai_ _d_ _. "You just couldn't stick with us, huh? You had to go with these... filthy, garbage people? No offence."_

_Jadis r_ _egarded him_ _indifferently._ _"Deal is for twelve, yes?"_

" _Ten," Negan s_ _aid_ _. "People are a resource."_

_Gunshots t_ _railed_ _off in the distance across Alexandria. Maybe aimed at Aaron, or Rosita, or someone putting_ _down_ _Sasha'_ _s w_ _alker_ _..._

_Jadis glanced to_ _wards_ _the noise, t_ _hen_ _said_ _,_ _"Ten."_

_Negan g_ _rinned_ _at her._ _He_ _stepped over to my dad_ _and_ _sighe_ _d_ _loudly_ _. "Ah, Rick. This is just gonna make you sad. Broken. You're gonna wish you were dead. I like having fun, I do. But maybe you think that the guy that did what he did to your friends... wasn't me... like that was some sort of a put-on, like I'm not the guy with the bat — I'm just the guy that makes your kid spaghetti. I'm the guy who takes a fucking loogie in the face from_ _cripple-mc-_ _four-eyes here and lets him keep his heartbeat."_

_More gunfire,_ _and a s_ _cream_ _._

" _Oh..." Negan grins. "Oh, fuck. Maybe this is on me. Maybe this is all on me. I gotta make it right. I guess I gotta start all over again. I gotta tell you, Rick, if I had a kid, I'd want him to be just like your kid, which makes this so much harder..."_

_I glared up at him. "You're not gonna win..."_

" _Carl,_ _i_ _t is over. Now, listen, don't take it personally. I don't wanna replace you, but your daddy here's given me no choice, see? So why don't you point your one ball up the street there and take everything in, one last time..."_

_I_ _looked up the street,_ _at all the dead bodies littering it, and_ _I looked at my dad, knelt to my_ _right_ _, shot_ _in the side_ _and bleeding, and then_ _I looked_ _at Oliver_ _to my left_ _,_ _who was_ _slumped on his side,_ _his leg broken and his arm_ _bleeding so badly that it was_ _like he was dying right there next to me._

_A_ _sh_ _out_ _c_ _ame from_ _the distance and_ _I remember_ _a figure fa_ _ll_ _ing_ _from_ _one of_ _the Brownstone roo_ _fs._ _My first thought was that it was_ _Michonne._ _Dad must've thought the same thing, because he moaned._

_A_ _nd_ _Negan laughe_ _d_ _._

" _Oh. Wow. You just lost somebody important to you right now, like, just now. Fuck. That... is..._ timing. _Well, Rick,_ you _chose this. I truly don't know what more I could've done to warn you. And this isn't a warning. This is punishment._

" _I'm gonna kill Carl now._

" _I'm gonna make it one, nice, hard swing — try to do it in one because I_ like _him._

" _I just want you to put that in your brain and roll it around for a minute._

" _I'm gonna kill Carl, and then Lucille here, she's gonna take your hands, and then your son's achy, breaky, handicap, little boyfriend is gonna come with me to get himself patched up. And he's gonna stay with me for a while. I'll even let you keep Daryl as fair trade. One of mine for one of yours. How's about that?"_

" _You can do it right in front of me," D_ _ad_ _answere_ _d_ _. "You can take my hands._ My boys. _I told you already. I'm gonna kill you. All of you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but nothing is gonna change that..._ Nothing... _You're all already dead..."_

_Negan watched him. His face twitched._ _I didn't know it then, but_ _I realise now_ _that_ _that_ _was the moment_ _h_ _e realised it. He realised my dad wasn't ever going to bend to his will. He was never going to kneel_ _._

_Tha_ _t_ _was the moment N_ _egan_ _decided what_ _he_ _was going to do._

" _Fuck..." he said. "Wow, Rick... okay... well, you said it."_

_M_ _y_ _hat w_ _a_ _s knocked off m_ _y_ _head._

_I heard O_ _liver c_ _ry_ _out my name_ _._

_I s_ _aw_ _m_ _y dad's eyes wide open in horror._

_And I saw it happen._

_I_ _watched..._

_As_ _Negan sent_ _his baseball bat_ _through the back of m_ _y father_ _'s skull._

❂:❂:❂:❂

There's nothing anyone could've done to save him. There was nobody left to save the rest of us. None willing, at least. Kingdom and Hilltop have given up on us. Oceanside never even tried at all. And Alexandria is probably slaughtered by now, or left starving and defenceless. And Oliver, Judith, and I are here, all alone.

Footsteps approach from outside the room.

I jump to my feet, adrenaline ramming me like icy water.

The door swings open, slowly.

And Negan stands there in the doorway.

He grins at me.

"Hello again," he says, propping his bat on his boot toe and leaning his waist into it. "May I come in?"

I don't speak. I just watch him, so Negan steps into the room, bowing his head in greeting. His eyebrows raise as he sees the shattered vase on the floor.

"Aw, you don't like flowers?" he asks me. "Come on. Everybody likes flowers."

I frown at him, wanting to ask what he's talking about, wanting to know where my sister is, if Oliver is okay, but it's difficult to get the words out. All I can do is swallow around my tongue until _—_

"I never asked," Negan interrupts me, "but that stutter of yours. It's brain damage, ain't it? From however you lost your eye?"

"Where is _m_ _..._ _m-_ _y sister?_ " I say.

Negan sucks his top lip and frowns disapprovingly. "I already told you—"

"I need to s... need her here." I squeeze my fists. " _A_ _nd Oliver."_

"Hold your fucking horses, kid!" Negan says patronisingly. " _Do_ _not_ talk back to me. And do not _interrupt_ me." He grins. "I don't want you overheating the ol' noggin now, do I? You might lose the last few brain cells y'got left rattling around in there."

My blood boils, and before I know it, I rush at him, shouting in anger. He snatches my arms on one fist like there's nothing to it —like I'm not almost the size of any man now but just some small child throwing a tantrum— and before I can stop him, he sends the butt of his bat through my gut and I fold forward in shock and pain, the air knocked out of me. As I hit the floor, shards of vase cut my hands and I wince, knelt there in agony and clutching my stomach, waiting for the air to come back into my chest again.

"That was a bad fucking idea!" Negan shouts at me. "One that will _not_ go without punishment. Arat?"

I hear her step to attention behind him in the corridor.

"Bring me his baby sister's fingernail," Negan orders. " _Any one will do..._ "

"W _..._ _w-_ ait!" I shout, forcing myself to sit up. "Don't hurt her!"

But I can hear Arat walking away.

"Please, I'm sorry! _N_ _..._ _N-_ _O!_ "

Negan makes a sharp, "Agh!" noise, and Arat's footsteps stop abruptly. I see her shadow past Negan's legs, turning back to my room, and I lean forward to hold my gut again from the pain, choking frantic breaths.

"That's more like it," Negan says. He bends sideways so that I can look him in the eye. "Now, tell me what you'll do for me, in order to keep your baby sis alive — in order to keep your boyfriend _alive_. What... will you do... _for m_ _e_ _?_ "

My hands are trembling.

I look up at him and swallow.

And I say, breathlessly, "Anything. I'll do anything."

"That. Is. More. _Like. It._ "

I glare up at him. He leers down at me. I have to look away, and I see past him that Dwight and Eugene are standing in the corridor with Arat, too. They both look away from me. I grit my teeth and glare at the floor.

"Oh, say it again!" Negan growls to me, like he might hop on the spot from excitement. "Knelt just like you are, right there, so's I know that it is _finally_ drilling into the ruins of your broken brain..."

And I tell him, "I'll do anything. I s...s-wear it."

"Then answer me this one question, kid... who are you?"

I frown, glancing sideways. "Carl G—"

Instantly, Negan bashes the end of his bat hard against the door frame and I flinch away in shock. I have to shut my eye, flinching at the image of my father lying on the ground like he was this morning, with the top of his head wide open and gushing like a geyser.

He died staring at me.

He died trying to say my name.

"Who are you!?" Negan shouts, and this time it's Arat, Dwight, and Eugene who answer him.

And in unison they shout back, " _I am Negan!_ "

And I swear I hear it echo through the whole factory, too — spreading outward like a shockwave.

I stare up at them all, breathing fast. Negan grins at me. He tips his bat down, so it stops just before my chin. I force myself not to flinch.

"Let's try that again, shall we?" he says. "Because this moment will decide how today ends for you. This moment... oh... it is the first day of the rest of your life."

It hurts to breathe in the truth of it. I have to take a second so that I can bear it, until I can look up to him, forcing the hardness in my face.

And he asks, "So, who are _you?_ "

And I say, "I'm Negan."

Negan groans happily. "Wonderful... fuck, I wish I had a camera on me. What a moment to document. Rick's own kid, swearing his allegiance to me. _Fucking b_ _eautiful._ "

Arat grins with him. Eugene and Dwight watch the floor.

"Anyway," Negan says, "I came here to tell you that I stuck to my word: Oliver's surgery was a success. The bullet in his arm has been removed, blood has been transfused, he has been stitched up, and his _very_ broken leg has been re-set. Dr. Carson has assured me that he's back on the road to recovery. _All is well._ You can thank me later."

My skin prickles desperately. I put my hands on my knees and take in the relief of it for a moment.

"And in regards to your sister, she's being taken good care of, too," Negan adds. "Really, my wives are plenty desperate for their own little carpet crawlers. She'll be callin' all of them momma before you know it."

I feel my lip start to curl but I'm quick enough to stop it.

"You can see them both in the morning," Negan tells me. "But don't forget, you're still being punished for your little stunt just now. Two days without food will do just nicely, I think."

I keep my mouth shut, which seems to please him, and I can tell as he nods to me and turns around that he and the rest of them are going to leave me here again, and suddenly I'm so afraid of being alone that I can't help but clamber to my feet and call out his name.

"N...N-egan..."

He turns to me curiously.

And I gulp several times until the right words find me.

And I ask him, "You promise? You p...p-romise I can see them?"

Negan smiles at me. "I promise."

And then he's gone and shutting the door behind him. I don't hear any lock, but I know trying to leave would be useless, and as their footsteps leave down the corridor I notice one shadow doesn't leave, so I step closer, pressing my ear to the door to listen.

"This place," Eugene's voice says hoarsely from the other side, "it may lack the same creature comfies of hom— of Alexandria. But given a couple ticks, and a whole lot o' tocks… you kids'll come to get used to how this particular cookie tends to crumble... proverbial cookie, of course. Although, we do actually have—"

"Eugene!" Negan shouts from down the corridor. "Let's get going! We got shit to get done!"

As Eugene's shadow rushes away, I step back from the door, wishing I could kick it, but instead I slump down on the narrow, dusty bed, feeling like some caged animal, only too tired and afraid to struggle anymore, until somehow, hours and hours later, it's in that fear and exhaustion that I manage to fall asleep.

_No more kids stuff.  
I wish you could have the childhood I had,  
but that's not gonna happen.  
People are gonna die.  
I'm gonna die.  
Your mom.  
There's no way you can ever be ready for it.  
I try to be, but I can't.  
The best we can do now is avoid it as long as we can.  
Keep one step ahead.  
I wish I had something better to say,  
something more profound.  
My father was good like that..._

_But I'm tired, son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, VerbalWalker, for your help to flesh out this whole story! And a super thank you for the Eugene dialogue there at the end! You're amazing. Go check out their story, 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', if you want!
> 
> Lock-down has given me too much time to dwell on the things that are nostalgic to me, like many others right now. This idea has been floating around in my head for about a year, and things have gotten to the point where I don’t have anything better to do anymore, and I somehow managed to write the first thirty-three chapters of this in less than a month, so here you go…
> 
> Things that aren’t cannon, for context if you haven’t read the fanfic this AU is based on, or just need a recap:
> 
> \- Carl has a speech impediment (stutter) after getting shot in the face. He struggles with words that begin with m, s (or soft c), w, n/kn/gn, p, hard g, and f. His stutter is badly written in the og fanfic, but I think I’ve cleaned it up much better here after doing some more research.
> 
> \- As mentioned before, Kingdom and Hilltop do not step in to help in the fight at Alexandria, but the actual reasons will become clear as the story progresses.
> 
> \- Sherry did not run away from the Sanctuary after helping Daryl escape, for reasons that should become clear in the second act, henceforth Dwight did not see any repercussions from this. I did this so I can fiddle with that arc later, for various reasons. (The young Dr. Carson is still at the Sanctuary after the old Dr. Carson was thrown into the furnace, though, but for non-canonical reasons that will be explained next chapter.)
> 
> \- Carl and Oliver have been boyfriends for about a year, give or take a few breaks here and there due to complicated circumstances, for example, kidnap, brain damage, living in separate communities, Carl thinking Oliver was dead, Oliver falling out with Carl for locking him in a laundry room… you know, the usual.
> 
> If you want to read their story before this AU, feel free to check out the first three parts in the Stale M&M’s fanfic (until about chapter 133) but otherwise, continue on all you like.
> 
> As always,  
> Happy reading.


	2. I: How Leverage Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Oliver is cooped up in the infirmary after being shot and breaking his leg in the fight. Negan explains to him the new way of life that he expects Oliver to live by, and gives a demonstration on what exactly it will cost if he does not obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support.
> 
> The OC, Oliver de Luca:
> 
> He/him, 16yo (and, of course, the obligatory visual: bushy brown hair, olive skin, brown eyes, tall nose, long face, under-bite, glasses, blah blah).
> 
> He’s an orphan. His mother was born in Italy, his father was Jewish-American. He had an older brother, Patrick, who died canonically in season 4. He’s a right-hand amputee after being bit by a walker in season 5, he’s an abuse survivor, and he’s killed five people so far (Mikey, ‘Chelle, an OC called Merope, and two Junkyard People), unless you count those he and Carol indirectly caused to die at Terminus.
> 
> Main characters he’s closest to are Carl (his boyfriend), Carol (his adopted mother, though things are complicated between them after she left), and Daryl (who saved Oliver’s life in season 4). Others include Judith, Enid, Michonne, Maggie, Tara, Rosita, Gabriel, Eric, Aaron, Jerry, Ezekiel, Morgan, and Jesus, in generally that order. He’s got a complicated history with Rick, after Rick betrayed him, which will be elaborated on throughout this AU.

_~ Oliver ~_

* * *

Without my glasses, this strange room I wake up in is a blur of dim, grey light. The air tastes stale and muggy and dusty. A stranger is sitting at a metal desk across the room with his back facing me, hunched and busy with something. He runs a stressed hand through his auburn hair and sighs tiredly.

I try to sit up, but find that I can't because my leg is strung up in a sling hung from a frame on the ceiling. A bandage is wrapped around my right elbow, where I was shot, just above where there is usually a bandage wrapped around my amputation. And I remember how Jadis crossed us, and how Dwight did, too. And I remember Sasha, turned, and in the mess of the fight, I was injured, but things after that are vague. I'm so confused that I don't notice the desk dweller approaching until he's already crossing the room towards me.

"Get back!" I yelp, attempting to throw out my fist only for it to jerk short because my wrist is handcuffed to the side-bar of the bed. The image of me as a piñata pops into my head, which I try to dwell.

"Hey, take it easy," the blurry stranger says, in a voice much kinder than I'm expecting. "Take this. You're wheezing." He hands me my inhaler. I guess he found it in my pants pocket, which I'm no longer wearing because I've only got my underwear and an oversized canvas shirt on.

I take the medicine. My chest opens up again. My broken leg pangs in its cast. I wince and have to lie back, a headache stirring.

"Where am I?" I ask, squinting. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Carson," he says, moving around the bed to uncuff me. "You're at the Sanctuary. Negan brought you here yesterday afternoon. Sorry about the handcuffs. Can't be too careful. You know how it is."

By the light through the windows, I can guess it's night-time. The moon looks too big. I feel heavy and achy and itchy. Dr. Carson holds something out to me. My glasses, I realise, when I squint. I put them on and the room becomes clear. I'm in an infirmary. What I thought was the moon is really just a lamp in the corner of the room. It is night-time, though, even if the window is too murky to see through very well.

Dr. Carson coaxes me to lie back again. I think about how the Kingdom's secret allegiance to Alexandria is blown now, and the consequences that will have for us all, and I think of Sasha again, and then I remember Michonne, falling... and Rick… and I have to wipe my eyes and push away the nasty breaking feeling in my chest.

Dr. Carson clears his throat. "I'll go and get Negan..."

"No," I beg.

Dr. Carson sighs. Without looking at me, he says, "I'm sorry, Oliver. But it's not up to me."

I watch him go, out of breath and not knowing what to do. I can see my prosthetic arm over on Dr. Carson's desk — he'd been stitching the strap back together, after Negan sliced it off me to get a better look at my amputation. I try to shuffle aside on the bed and get up, but with my leg still strung to the ceiling there's no way I'll get it down on my own. I can barely even sit up with just one working arm to support me. I twist around in the bed, trying to reach for something I can use as a weapon, something I can hide in my sling, or cast, but I don't find anything within my reach except for my inhaler. My chest is still a little tight, I notice, so with a wan, wheezy sigh, I take a few more doses to breathe properly again.

Footstep begin echoing along the corridor outside, towards me. When Negan turns into the room, it's a shock to see Judith fast asleep in his arms, curled up against his chest with her head tucked under his chin.

"Judy..." I mutter. "What's she doing here?"

Negan raises a finger to his mouth to shush me, giving a considering glance to Judith. Negan didn't bring any of his henchmen. He's not even carrying his bat with him. He sits carefully on the chair next to my bed, stroking Judith's back.

"Good to see you're finally awake," he tells me quietly.

I look at his eyes, then I look at Judith again, searching for any sign of something wrong with her — tear streaked cheeks or a suspicious bruise or something, but she looks as well and as peaceful as if she were sleeping on mine or Carl's chest, or her fathers…

A dark cloud closes over my head.

"You killed him," I whisper. "You killed Rick..."

"I killed a lost cause," Negan says, and I wipe my cheeks, glaring at him, at his dead eyes and the harsh lines across his face. "You saw it," Negan adds. "I tried to give him an out."

"You were gonna kill his son."

Negan just shakes his head. "You don't understand war, kiddo. You don't understand how leverage works. But you will. I was never gonna kill Carl, 'cause I needed him to control his father. But it was never gonna be enough. Rick left me no choice."

Angry tears roll down my face, like hot wax.

"I hope you understand why you're here," Negan tells me. "I hope you can learn from Rick's mistakes, because it's down to you now not to let things end up the same way for yourself, and for the folks you care about."

I shake my head, overwhelmed. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"You will, soon," he says. "I assure you of that."

Negan sits there for a moment, gently stroking the hair out of Judith's face. She must be dreaming because her nose scrunches up.

"See," Negan says to me, "from here on out, yours and Carl's lives are interlinked. Your choices will directly impact the quality and the longevity of each others lives. One of you fucks up, the other will be punished for it. And if both of you fuck up… well..."

He places his hand firmly on the back of Judith's head then, and presses hard enough that she gives a tiny grunt of discomfort.

" _No!_ " I bark. "Don't touch her! Vaffanculo!"

Negan lets go of her, but my shouting has woken her up and she looks around, startled, and begins to cry.

"Judy," I coo, my voice cracking and sweat prickling along my forehead. "Judy, it's okay. I'm sorry."

She sees me and reaches out, but Negan cuddles her close, apologising to her on my behalf and whispering for her to go back to sleep. She glances at me, sniffling and confused, but does as Negan says and lays her head back on his chest.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him. "Why did you bring us here? Where is Carl? What do you want from us?"

"I'm giving you both a chance," Negan explains. "I'm giving you both a future, that I've worked so hard to build for us all. You can waste what I'm offering you all you want, but you'll only end up like the rest of your people — those who are left, at least."

"What did you do to them?"

"I dealt with them."

"You killed them..."

"No. But I knew I would have to some day if I didn't do something now. Those who kept giving me hassle, like Rick, those who I know are only going to be a threat to me one day… I got rid of."

I stare at him, horrified. "Got… rid?"

"That, I did," Negan says through a grin. "Ms. Jadis and I had a little deal together — she helps me kick your little Alexandrian asses, I give her ten of you as trade. Well, it was originally twelve, but I haggled her down. People are a resource, after all."

"Ten?" I ask. "What does she want with them?"

"How should I know. But she promised me, regardless, that I would never see them again, which was good enough for me."

My brain is spinning. "Who did you give to her?"

"Never the fuck you mind who," he says, like it's a rude question. "It doesn't matter to you anymore. What matters now is how you choose to move on from all this."

I lay here, losing my mind.

"It went the way I wanted it to, kiddo," he tells me, "the way it was _always_ going to."

He gets up, propping Judith higher on his hip.

"Now, I must get along. Things to do. But I will be back, and I will have questions." He grins down at me. "And you better have the right answers."

* * *

All night, I don't sleep. My heart leaps inside my face every time I hear someone walk by the infirmary outside, expecting Negan to come back with some new information to curdle my skin with. I don't eat when Dr. Carson leaves a bowl of stew by my bed. He sleeps at his desk to keep an eye on me, and in the morning, when the rising sun begins to turn the murky windows a dull, pale, brown-blue colour, Dr. Carson wakes up to rewrap the bandage on my arm and give me more pain medication for my leg.

"You really not gonna eat that?" he asks, pointing to my cold stew bowl.

I shake my head. He takes the bowl to his desk.

"I used to be Hilltop's doctor," he says as he eats. He chuckles dryly to himself. "Gregory traded me for a box of aspirin."

I know this already, but I don't say so.

Dr. Carson shrugs. "I mean, truth be told, it wasn't quite that simple. Simon didn't exactly give Gregory a choice. Negan needed a replacement doctor here, after he threw my brother in the furnace for helping that Red-neck feller from your community escape. Eh. Gregory got his due anyhow. Now he's got to put up with this place just as much as I do."

"What?"

"He ran away from Hilltop," he explains, "a few days ago. Came here."

I worry about what that means for Hilltop's safety, not liking where my thoughts take me or this conversation at all, so I don't say anything else.

As Dr. Carson goes back to his desk, I hear people coming along the corridor again. My heart does that horrible leaping thing another time, but this time for good reason, because Negan turns into the infirmary. Four people come into the room after him — Simon, who is wearing Michonne's katana and Daryl's waistcoat, Dwight, and then Carl and Judith. I'm so thrilled that I hurt my leg badly trying to twist around on the bed to face them.

Carl checks Negan's face, to which Negan gestures out an arm, so Carl quickly brings Judith over to me. I grab them both, practically throwing Judith up to my chest with Carl's help. Our hug is messy and even though it hurts my leg and my arm, I don't let go of either of them.

"It'll be okay," Carl tells me. "Everything's g...g-onna be okay..."

"It can't be over," I gulp out, "someone still has to be fighting for — hey!"

Carl is yanked out of my arms.

"Absolutely _not!_ " Negan growls, gripping Carl by the collar.

"Stop!" I shout.

Judith screams, reaching for him. I pull her close, watching helplessly as Negan drags Carl a few feet away across the infirmary. Carl fights against him, so Simon and Dwight step in, too.

"Let him go!" I shout again. "Please!"

Dr. Carson shushes me.

"See, _that_ right there," Negan tells me. "That is plain disrespect. Talking about fighting me? Winning against me? In my own home? After I am being such a _hospitable_ host to you both? _Unac_ -fucking- _ceptable..._ "

He draws his huge, steel knife from his hip. The blade sparkles under the bright, clinical light. With Simon and Dwight holding Carl still by the arms and shoulders, there isn't anything he can do to stop Negan from snatching a fistful of his hair behind his head and slicing it off in one clean cut. Carl yelps in shock. His head reels forward at the release of pressure. For a moment it's like he's convinced that Negan has cut his throat. When he realises what's really happened, though, his mouth falls open, and his face turns red.

I realise I'm covering my mouth, so I let go.

"Carl..."

Negan marches over and throws several inches of Carl's hair at me. I falls in locks over the bed and the floor. Judith curls up to my chest, flinching. I can't move. It's like the horror of what just happened has paralysed me. Carl doesn't look at me or anyone, just hangs his head in humiliation as his chopped hair dangles unevenly around his cheekbones.

"We have a give and take relationship now, like I said," Negan says to us all. "For every fucking _ounce_ of disrespect either of you give me, I take something _away_ from you. Now, I'd like to keep it to things like this. Hair, or food, or the pillows and blankets on your beds, but _do not_ get me fucking wrong when I tell you... _I will take fingers,_ I will take _tongue_ _s_ , I will take your God damn _balls..._ I WILL _I_ _RO_ _N_ THE SKIN OFF YOUR _FUCKING FACES_ IF I HAVE TO! One way or another, you will _both_ respect me. Hell, you might even grow to like me, once you see the good I do around here."

And without another word, he snatches Carl by the collar and pulls him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following on from last chapter’s notes, I changed the reason the old Dr. Carson was thrown into the furnace to him being framed for letting Daryl escape, instead of being framed to be having an affair with Sherry, like in the show. I didn’t really need to at all. I just didn’t want to write the old Dr. Carson. He was no fun, and far less fleshed out, whereas his brother had a pretty endearing arc in that one episode with Gabriel and I grew quite attached to him.
> 
> As always,  
> Happy reading.


	3. I: Even After We Said Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Negan is busy outside the Sanctuary. Dwight lets Oliver in on some information about the other communities, but urgent questions are still left unanswered. The boys are being used against each other, causing their paranoia to grow, and Carl is beginning to process the loss of his father.

_~ Oliver ~_

* * *

Negan hasn't come back yet after what he did to Carl, even though he said he had questions for me. Dwight comes by the next morning to bring me some food. He hovers for a moment. I don't like that, so I glance at the door in the hopes he might leave.

"Negan told me to stay and watch you eat it myself," he says, catching my hint. He gives Dr. Carson a side glance. "Seeing as you're just giving your food away and all."

Dr. Carson clears his throat guiltily.

"I'm not hungry," I tell them.

"Of course you're not," Dwight says, softly — too softly for a man who I watched murder Denise right in front of me and my friends just a few weeks ago. "Eat," he says. "Negan's orders."

I want to refuse, but I think of yesterday and what happened when I did something against Negan's wishes, so I pick up my fork and stab a small piece of potato. Hilltop's, no doubt.

"Where is Negan anyway?" Dr. Carson asks Dwight. "He said he'd be by for questioning."

"He's busy with the communities."

"Hmm. Seems like he's been in a good mood lately. Things going his way and all."

"Not exactly," Dwight says, and glances quickly at me, so I look away at my plate. There's meat on it, but I can't tell what kind from the smell or texture. I put it in my mouth. It's pork. I never liked pork. Smells too much like burning people. "He's pretty frustrated, to be honest..." Dwight goes on.

"'Cause of the King still missing?" Dr. Carson asks.

I look up again, my mouth full. "The Kingdom's missing?"

Dwight shrugs.

"Hilltop, too?" Dr. Carson asks him.

Again, Dwight shrugs.

"Can't blame 'em," Dr. Carson says. "I'd be long gone, too, if I were them."

I sit back, processing all this while I force myself to eat. How did the Kingdom and Hilltop know to run in time? They had to have found out Negan knew about the Kingdom's allegiance to Alexandria, but how? Did Maggie realise, after Gregory ran away? Did she tell Ezekiel, so he, too, could weigh the risk of Gregory spilling information he had about the Kingdom that put them all at risk? Or maybe Ezekiel found out I'd left Hilltop to fight with Alexandria, and predicted correctly that Negan would recognise me from the time Morgan and I spent helping out on the secret supply runs at the Kingdom.

Guilt racks me. I was so stupid. How did I ever think this would turn out our way? How did any of us? I can't speak for several minutes. I can't even keep on eating.

At some point, Dr. Carson gets up to go to the bathroom. Dwight watches him go, then turns to me with a small, awkward nod.

"I shouldn't have let him tell you all that," he admits. "Negan wants to keep you and Carl on as much of a need-to-know basis as possible... for now."

I glare at him. "Then why _did_ you let him?"

Dwight shrugs again. "Guess I… feel somewhat responsible, for your situation."

" _You are._ You ratted us out."

"I did my _job,_ " Dwight retorts, the stress lines rippling along his burn scars.

I watch him, disgusted, folding my arms because I don't want him to see me shaking. "So… you were double crossing us? You were on his side the whole time? You knew the Scavengers were double crossing us all along, too?"

Dwight grits his teeth. He shrugs. "Actually, that's the one thing I didn't know about at all. I didn't know they were at Alexandria. I didn't know Negan knew they were at Alexandria either. Nah, he and Rick kept those little gems up their sleeves all on their own. Funny, how they're similar like that. Or _were_ , I guess."

"That's not true," I say, even though my voice falters. "Rick was _nothing_ like Negan."

"You sure about that?" Dwight asks me.

Overwhelmed, I choose not to think about his question, or my answer, and instead fall into my own thoughts for a minute, thinking, at the very least, regardless of Dwight crossing us, this all means that Maggie and Enid could be safe still. Carol and Ezekiel and Jerry and Morgan and the rest of them, too. Only, what does safe mean for them now? Where will they go? Can Alexandria keep them safe, in secret? Or help them at all? Negan will have considered it, and taken measures to prevent it, I'm sure. He already said he 'got rid' of those he considered the biggest threat. That'll be Daryl and Rosita definitely, considering they've both attacked him themselves or caused trouble for him at one point or another.

I wish I could remember something from after Rick was killed, but the horror of that day, and all the blood I was losing, and the terrible pain in my leg and arm all were too much, and I blacked out before we even left Alexandria. I thought I'd died. And then the next thing I was aware of was waking up here last night.

My mind goes to Carol, and what Daryl told me at Hilltop right before the rest of us went to Oceanside. He told me Carol hadn't left the Kingdom like she told me she would when she made me leave. He said she didn't even know why she was still around. He said he expected her to try to convince the King to help us in the fight; Daryl was sure of it. But I guess that didn't really mean he heard it from her himself. And I hate how regardless of any of that, I can't think of anything except the fact that I just wish she was here to tell me what I should do, or to just hold me and tell me things will work out. I hate that. I hate how easy it is for me to still fall back to her for comfort, even after she said she would leave me, even after she _already_ left me... _even after w_ _e_ _said goodbye._

Dwight opens his mouth to say something else, maybe taunt me some more about how he got the better of us all, even if he doesn't look all that pleased with himself, but he steps back from me and crosses the room again because we can hear Dr. Carson returning. For a few minutes, I finish my food, and then Dwight takes my empty plate and leaves the infirmary without saying another word.

* * *

Something's been going on all day. I could hear lots of urgent talk outside the infirmary, along the corridors, but nothing I was able to make anything out of. I worry myself crazy that the Hilltoppers or Kingdommers have been found. It would explain all of the rushing around.

Then, late in the evening, Negan comes by to finally question me about my involvement with everything, and considering that none of what I know can help him find them, which he clearly hasn't done yet, to my relief, I tell him, carefully, what I know, and what I'm pretty sure he already knows by now, too: The Kingdom, Hilltop, and Alexandria were working together, against him, and that I have no idea how the Hilltop and Kingdom knew to run before he found them.

I'm feeling pretty lucky, all things considered.

He can't use me against anyone like he said he would.

That is, until he asks me this: "Where did you get the guns?"

I stare at him, quickly trying to work out what he'll already know or not, to gauge my answer, but he speaks again before I can.

"I know you don't just find that much firepower lying around… so tell me… where was it all from?"

"We got them from the Scavengers."

Negan pulls a face, like he's offended, and shakes his finger. "See, I believe you, but I know it's not _all_ of the truth. _I know how many_ _fucking_ _guns those Junkyard People have..._ and the numbers just... _don't... add... up._ So, please, tell me where you got the rest of the guns. I am making this so unbelievably, fucking _easy_ for you... so tell me the simple, honest, God-damned... _truth_. And you know what's at stake. _Who is at stake._ So just tell me, would ya? Where did you get the rest of the guns."

It's like I'm being squeezed to death.

Squeezed and squeezed until there's no choice left but to say the truth, like I'm yacking my guts up and out through my mouth with it.

Only it hurts worse than that.

"Oceanside," I say.

"Oceanside," he repeats back to me, with a suddenly easy-going smile on his face. _"_ The quaint, little, seaside, shanty town in Maryland. Sheesh. I really did a number on their people, huh? They tell you about that? They tell you what I did to them in the early days?"

I nod, not even breathing.

"I admit," Negan says, "I was a little more temperamental back in those days than I am today. I was new to things, still figuring out my groove. And I perhaps went a little overboard sometimes, like when I told Arat to kill that one girl's little brother. How old must he have been? Ten? Eleven? Yeah… not my best moment. But, see, I learned from it. I do my own dirty work nowadays. Seein' a pattern here yet?"

I don't answer him, and Negan laughs to himself in this gravelly way.

"The nerve of them," he says then, more to himself than to me. He gets up. "Thank you, kiddo. Your honesty means a lot to me. As in, it means so much to me that you, sir, just earned yourself a gold fucking star!"

He goes away quickly after that, while I lay here feeling like mud.

But he isn't gone long.

To my surprise, he comes back with Carl and Judith. I realise this is a thing now: a daily visit he allows so long as we do as he says. A reward for good behaviour. It's difficult not to react at the sight of Carl's head, which has been totally shaved since the incident I caused last night, almost to the scalp. He looks completely miserable as he brings Judith over and sits at the end of my bed.

Carl rubs his head when he sees me looking at it. I stop. He glances at Negan, who is standing by the door watching us with his arms crossed and that nasty grin plastered across his face. Carl turns to me again, forcing the lightness in his voice.

"How are you f...f-eeling?" he asks.

I feel so guilty, but I don't know if saying so will help at all, so instead I just say, "I'm okay. Are you…" And again it's impossible to stop myself from glancing up at his bare head. I look at his eye quickly, and swallow. "...okay?"

Carl's face tells me no, he's not okay in the slightest, but his mouth just says, "W...w-ish I had my hat," and he rubs the Velcro-short hair on his scalp self-consciously again.

I reach out and touch his hand. His skin is warm. Sore-looking scabs are littered across his fingers. He pulls his hand into his lap to hide them. I stare at him, catching the way he glances hungrily at my half-eaten bowl of oatmeal.

"Do you want some?" I offer, but he glances at Negan, who grins, and Carl shakes his head. Worry makes me start to sweat, but Judith, who is watching us both, begins to fuss so I force the anxiety from my face and smile at her.

I ask her what she's been up to for the last few days, but it's difficult to get any information that makes sense out of her on account of her not even being two years old yet, and barely learning to pull half a sentence together. Something about dress-up and colouring, I think. Carl and I try to play with her a little, showing her the pictures in a magazine Dr. Carson let me read, but she can tell that there's tension in the room and soon only wants to cling to her brother for comfort.

"She's okay," Carl tells me, "she's been s...s-taying in my room all day."

"Not only that," Negan says. "But she's going to be staying in your room from now on. I've even got Dwight setting up a nice little cot for her in there right now."

Carl turns to him, shocked. "Thank you."

Negan nods, and before he can say anything else, Simon rushes into the room. Michonne's katana jolts over his shoulder.

"Boss," he says, "you busy?"

Negan glances at him, twirling his fingers in our direction. "A little, yeah."

"My apologies. But I got news," Simon tells him, glancing dryly at me and Carl. "About... _the thing_ _._ "

"Aw, I gotta miss out on all this wholesome family time? Shit. Alright." Negan groans, making a big, dramatic scene as he makes for the door. "Back in a few, boys. Be good."

And then he and Simon are gone and it's just me, Carl, Judith, and Dr. Carson, and it's the best thing that's happened to me for days, as far as I'm concerned. Carl, too, visibly relaxes.

"Carl?" I ask nervously. "I have to tell you something. Something bad."

He waits, his eye flitting left to right between both of mine.

"I told him about Oceanside," I admit, the regret of it pulling my arms. "Just now, before he brought you here."

He blinks in surprise. "I did, too," he says, "this m...m-orning. He sent Simon and a group out to interrogate them hours ago. I… think that's the thing Simon's talking to him about now."

This blind-sides me. I have to lay very still and think about it for a minute.

"He was testing us," I say. "Seeing if we'd come up with the same answers..."

Carl frowns. "But… S...S-imon left hours ago. He believed me..."

I watch him suspiciously, feeling my eyebrows fold together. Is he taking Negan's disbelief personally?

"Oceanside'll be okay," Carl says to me. "Negan said Simon w...w-ouldn't kill them."

I grimace, not finding this all that comforting. It's difficult to believe that Negan is capable of tuning down his wrath, let alone the wrath of his henchmen.

"Did you hear about Hilltop and the Kingdom?" I ask him.

Carl nods. "Maybe, if he finds them, he won't kill them, either."

"He'll kill them," I disagree. "Maybe not all of them. But he'll kill someone, at least."

"But, he said... people are a resource."

"He said that to me, too, but he still killed Sasha, and your dad," I tell him, "and _traded_ ten others. Did he tell you that?"

Again, he nods, but I can see by the sadness in his face that he's thinking about his father.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, even though I've always hated it when people said it to me after my brother died. Saying sorry is useless when you lose someone that close to you, but, I realise now that it isn't any less true. There is nothing more that I feel I can say about it. I am just sorry that it happened. Sorry that Carl had to see it. Sorry that there was nothing we could do to stop it. I add, "Your dad didn't deserve what happened to him."

Carl flinches, but plays it off as a shrug. He mulls over his words for a moment, but eventually says to me, "Dad kn...kn-ew it was coming, one day. He knew we couldn't stay one step ahead of everything…. not forever."

I shake my head, wishing I could tell him that even though it's true, Negan can't stay one step ahead of everything either. He didn't know that Sasha was dead inside the coffin, so clearly something somewhere went wrong for him, too. Only I think of what happened yesterday because of what I'd said against Negan, and I think of how, even though he's not in the room, even though there's no way he could hear me, Dr. Carson might still tell on me... or maybe someone might be listening outside the door... and the fear grips me so hard it's like I can't even breathe, so I don't say anything at all.

"I can't even go to a funeral," Carl says, tears swelling in his eye. "I don't even know if there w...w-as one. Not for dad, or Sasha, or Michonne... or anyone. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't even get to chose if I _wanted_ to say goodbye."

Judith looks up to him worriedly, hearing the catch in his throat. Carl hugs her to him. I wish I could hug them both, but with my leg strung up, I can hardly sit forward or even move much, so I just watch them, feeling useless.

When Negan comes back, he looks bothered.

"I gotta hand it to your people," he tells us, waving his finger in our direction. "You are a slippery bunch when you want to be. Now, I'm not going to accuse either of you of lying, because I know that's unlikely."

He throws his hands up.

"But still, Oceanside is somehow abandoned. Just in time. Somehow, they knew we would be coming for them and they ran. _Fucking cowards!_ Bunch of pussies — although, I guess that kinda makes sense, considering it's only the ladies left anymore."

Carl and I don't say anything. We know what's coming.

And Negan asks us, "Who told them to run? Who tipped them off?"

We both shake our heads.

"Dwight," Carl says, "he w...w-as our spy."

"Yeah, I know about that," Negan says. "He was spying for you _for me_. How do you think I knew I needed to get Jadis to disarm those explosives in the moving truck? What, you think those garbage people told me themselves? Oh, no. Jadis was just as ready to let the fight go Rick's way as she was to let it go mine. She would've only made the same deal with him as she had with me. That's why I needed all these fucking angles. So I can stay one step ahead."

"We don't know who tipped them off," I say, "we weren't there. We were being kidnapped."

Negan finds this funny.

"Simon was right about you," he says to me. "You are a little smart-mouth, once you're warmed up a bit. How very fucking endearing. Well, we'll soon snub that out of you."

The regret and fear hits me again, expecting him to punish me for what I said. Maybe he'll have Carl's mouth washed out with soap on my behalf, or worse.

But Negan just yawns.

"I need to get my head on straight," he says to us, "fuck a few of my wives. Kid number one, take you and your sister back to your room. I trust you to know the way by now. In the morning you and I'll get to work. And kiddo number two, focus on healing that leg of yours, so I can finally _put_ you to work. We'll talk more some other time. Dr. Carson, as you were."

And then he leaves, whistling those two tone notes as he goes.

Dr. Carson doesn't let Carl and Judith stay any longer. Carl steps around the bed and hugs me tightly, and then he just looks at me for this long moment until he kisses me once, nods, and then takes Judith and leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last set-up chapter, I promise. Things kick off from here.
> 
> As always,  
> Happy reading.


	4. I: Father, Friend, and Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Oliver aren't seeing eye to eye. Carl is taken to visit Rick's grave, and Negan allows him one thing to remember his father by. Only, their shifting relationship is causing a negative influence on Carl in his time of vulnerability.

_~ Carl ~_

* * *

For the next few weeks, Negan brings me with him to meetings with the rest of his henchmen —Simon, Dwight, Regina, Arat, Eugene, and also Gavin, who Oliver mentioned once from previous supply runs with the Kingdom— and in these meetings, Negan expresses his anger by bashing his bat against the long, wooden table, where a splintered dent has long-since formed in front of his seat.

They discuss mostly how to continue organising the distribution of all the neglected crops, livestock, and supplies left at Hilltop, Kingdom, and Oceanside, to Alexandria, who has been picking up a lot of their slack. Although, some of the responsibility to keep feeding the Saviors is going to a few of the other outposts, too, and as far as it sounds, the Saviors who live there aren't happy about it. Eugene and his crew are stressed, too, at the bullet factory, as they've been working overtime to make ammo since the battle at Alexandria.

Negan is fully expecting an attack from the runaways, despite their low supplies and weapons. He's set up day and night patrols between Alexandria, Hilltop, Kingdom, and Oceanside to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. He thinks the King has now most likely formed a coalition between the communities, in order to try again to overthrow the Saviors at some point. He suspects that Alexandria is helping them, too, but at this point he's run out of people to interrogate.

It's strange, living in both dread and hope for an attack. Except, as time goes on, and still nothing has begun, the more frustrated and pent up I get, until it's the only thing I talk about today on my visit to Oliver in the infirmary.

"Carl, please..." Oliver says, glancing nervously at the door. "Dr. Carson's gonna be back with our food any minute. You're only gonna get us into trouble for talking about this."

I decide I don't care, only I do really, so I try to calm down.

"I guess I just…" I sigh. "I can't help thinking they'll be coming for us s...s-oon, you know?"

Oliver shakes his head. "Trust me, man. They aren't... I already know how this story goes."

"You don't know."

" _I do,_ " he insists, curtly enough that Judith jumps. Oliver's eyes watch me, sharp and dark. " _N_ _obody_ is coming, Carl. It's just you and me now. We have to protect your sister. We have to protect _each other._ And you have to start accepting that. _N_ _obody is coming to save u_ _s_ _anymore._ "

I stare at him, thinking about what happened at the suburbs. I feel winded, so I sit back on the chair and pull Judith down from the bed to sit with me. Oliver frowns at his lap, avoiding my eyes, and for several minutes we don't talk to each other at all.

Dr. Carson comes back with a tray of bowls at some point. He hands one to each of us, including a small one for Judith, and goes to his desk to eat his own bowl.

"Please," Oliver whispers to me, as we begin to eat. "Just drop this."

I pick at my food.

I nod. "Okay. I will."

* * *

Early the next morning, I'm sitting inside Negan's big, black truck, and he's bringing me outside of the Sanctuary for the first time since he brought me here. I don't get told where we're going, but as Negan drives on, I get an idea, and my suspicion is confirmed as we turn in to the burned cul-de-sac. We drive a few miles in, following the main road towards Alexandria.

I get it now, why Negan is bringing me outside the Sanctuary.

He's just as pent up as me.

He wants something to begin, anything to.

Like revving a generator to get it to start.

He's trying to dangle me out in the open, as bait.

"Thought I'd bring you to see your ol' man's grave," Negan tells me, while I keep my eye on the burned houses. "O' course, we're not _only_ going for that reason. It's well overdue for me to come collect my rent. Now, I am a reasonable leader, or, if we keep the metaphor going, _landlord_. I have taken into consideration Alexandria's dwindled numbers, as well as… limited resourced. But Alexandria's had plenty of time to by now to cook up at least a little somethin' for me to chew on, I'm sure."

I think of how hard the last few seasons have been for Alexandria. The drought in summer, and the late crops this fall. Winter is going to be hard enough for us —I mean, for _them_ — as it is. But I don't say any of this. I sit and feel the rumbling engine under me, and soon Alexandria's tall, steel-beam walls come into view ahead.

"See, it's all for the greater good, kid," Negan goes on, one hand on the wheel and the other hung casually out the window. "The new world wont spin without an oiled cog. I'm cultivating the oil _and_ the cog. Without me, the cog would rust, and the world would come tumbling down around us."

As we arrive, Eric and Tobin open the gate.

"Carl," Eric says, as we stop beside them, and I open my mouth to say something, to say how glad I am that he's alive, and here, but Negan swings his bat between me and the window and hits the door frame loudly, leaving a dent. Eric and I startle. Eric jumps back, swallowing. I look at my lap, almost desensitised at this point.

"You don't talk to him," Negan growls at Eric. "We are just here for a pick up. No catch up."

Eric nods his head. "Sorry… Negan..."

With a dismissive wave, Negan drives on in through Alexandria. My eye glues to the spot by the solar panels where my father was murdered, the weapon it was done with knocking against my knee as we turn the corner, as if the bat is mocking me itself. Negan waves out his window to the three other trucks behind us, which all pan out along the main streets to begin their collection.

A few streets on, Negan parks up beside Gabriel's church. We both get out.

Gabriel comes outside. "Carl..."

"No, thanks, Father Stokes," Negan says to him, raising a palm. "No services required today."

"But I..."

"Why don't you go on take your holy-self over to the pantry and help your friends with the collection," Negan says, grinning, " _thank you..._ "

Hesitantly, Gabriel turns and leaves down the street. Negan keeps his hand on my shoulder as he walks me to the graveyard. There are several new graves, their dug earth still raised and unsettled, and a fresh bouquet of flowers beside each cross or plaque. I walk along each one, reading their names. Sasha Williams. Kent Lambert. Agatha Philips. Theo Abbot. Ellie Winifred. Sebastian Amaro. My hat hangs on one cross, rocking slowly in the chilled breeze.

I go to it, slowly, until I'm standing before my father's grave.

_Rick Grimes  
Father, Friend, and -_ _-_ _a-e_ _-_ _  
1971 – 2012_

The word _'Leader'_ is scratched out.

"Oh, yeah, that," Negan says, when he sees the expression on my face. "Yeah, had to edit that a little bit there. Didn't want to, you know, send the wrong message. You understand. I even thought about putting the word _'fool'_ there instead. Has a ring to it. But I chose against it. Like I said. I do have _some_ respect for the man. I respected his fight. And I respect that _without_ him, you wouldn't exist."

I sniff, stepping over to the grave to touch the old, tattered, Stetson hat. I thumb gently at the tiny hole at the front where Dad's badge used to be. I force myself not to cry, not here in front of Negan.

"You can have it back," Negan tells me, "if you want it."

I let go of the hat and step back from the grave, shaking my head. I only have to force the catch from my throat for a moment before I speak.

"Don't need it anymore."

And I don't even have to look to know Negan is smiling.

"Fuck, kid," he says. "Right on. You're a new man now. And you're acting like it."

I shut my eye, forcing the tears back.

"But come on, now," Negan tells me, opening his arms and gesturing towards the houses, "there must be somethin' you want back from this place?"

There really isn't. I don't want my drawings in my sketchbooks, and barely anything survived after the Saviors rampaged this place the first time and burned all our mattresses, and by now who knows what happened to Oliver's things in his backpack, so I just shake my head. And I'm just standing here, feeling numb and like this is all so messed up, and trying so hard to just mourn my own father...

And Negan throws me a curve ball.

"How about I get you his old gun back?" he asks. "A revolver, wasn't it?"

I blink at him, taken off guard.

Negan grins at me.

"What for?" I ask him.

"What the fuck do you think for?" He laughs. "To _use_ it!"

_For what?_ I think.

"Oh, don't worry, kid," Negan says, "I'm not gonna make you waste anybody with it. I told you. I do my own dirty work these days. Who you bury your bullets into will be _entirely_ up to you, and it always will be."

I watch him, then nod.

"Alright..." he says, in an impressed, growling tone, "that will be the first thing we do when we get you home. So help me God, I will get you your daddy's gun back!"

* * *

For the next few hours, I follow Negan around like a foal to its mare while the collection process is completed. The fact that I didn't see Michonne's grave at the church makes my whole day a little brighter, only as I keep my eye out for her, it becomes easy to guess that she was among the ten who were traded to Jadis. I figure out, too, that some others must've been Tara, Aaron, Rosita, and Daryl, because I don't see them around anywhere either, and like Michonne, I know they would try to see me while I'm here, at least. I can't tell for sure who the other five traded Alexandrians were, but I'm aware that I don't spot Scott around, or Barbara, or Francis, or Anna, or Nora.

Without letting me say goodbye to Eric or Gabriel, Negan takes me back to his truck. As we drive out of Alexandria and towards the Sanctuary, he asks me for information about my father's gun so that he can better locate it for me, so I tell him.

"You know, kid," he says at one point, "I think you're rubbing off on me."

I look at him, narrowing my eye in confusion.

"I was going to kill some of the Alexandrians," he says, "after interrogating them wasn't working. But I thought about that day I sent Simon off to deal with Oceanside. How you looked at me like I was complete scum, 'cause you assumed I wanted him to kill them, until I explained that that wasn't the case. And I saw the look on your face at that, and I saw you starting to trust me..."

He looks at me briefly, and smiles.

"See," he says, "I'm starting to understand that people respond better when you're not busy murdering them or torturing as a form of punishment. Doing my own dirty work ain't just for my own integrity no more, but the well-being of the rest of my people, also. Don't get me wrong, I still think a good bludgeoning comes in handy every now and then, which I'll do whenever I see fit to — _y_ _ou_ know that better than anyone. But still, you've taught me the value of stepping back a bit, and letting people realise in their own time that they're better off working _with_ me, rather than against. In a way, you're saving lives by living with me."

* * *

When we return to the Sanctuary, the first thing Negan does is flick the PTT button on his radio. He grins at me and says, "Negan to Sigh. Negan to Sigh… over."

" _Simon here. W_ _hat can I do for you, b_ _oss?"_

"Check in the armoury for a point-three-five-seven Magnum revolver. Nickel-coated fame and barrel, with a nice, pretty, varnish-print action."

" _The Colt Python?"_

"That's the one," Negan says with a grin. "Get it for me, would ya? Along with a nice leather holster, I think." He leans across to me, releasing the button on the walkie-talkie to ask me, "You like leather, kid? Or'd you prefer nylon? Nah, you're a leather man, I can tell..." And before I even answer he presses the button and says to Simon, "And if the Python's not there 'cause somebody checked it out or decided to take it for themselves, ask around, search every bedside table and cabinet, rip up floor boards — get whoever has it to hand it in immediately."

" _Yes, sir. Over and out."_

We go up stairs through the factory, to Negan's headquarters, where I find Judith napping in a cot in Negan's living space. Four of his wives —Amber, Tanya, Belle, and Lanelle— aren't around today. It's just Sherry and Frankie. When Negan asks where the others are, Sherry tells him they're busy downstairs playing with Eugene's science experiments; Eugene came back from his bullet farm this week to fill Negan in on their progress.

Negan laughs as he slumps down onto the couch, pulling Sherry onto his lap.

"And you and Frankie stayed here together to look after the baby?"

Sherry nods. Frankie sits next to me. I'm much more used to being around Negan's wives now than I was the first time, now that I've come to see them as people, instead of just property, like Negan made them seem like. Sherry is quiet and kind, and she looks at my face without flinching, unlike most other people. Frankie makes Judith laugh, and she always has something encouraging to say if you look like you need it.

"Judith been alright?" I ask her.

"She went down for her nap a half-hour ago after playing," Frankie answers, so I thank her, and she tells me, "No problem. Taking care of Judith keeps me occupied." Only she says it like it's not something she necessarily thinks is an all around good thing, and I guess I know why. I guess all Negan sees in her and the other wives is something to use, and other than Eugene's science experiments, they don't really have anything else to do around here.

"Aren't you two gonna ask me about my day?" Negan croons into Sherry's ear, rocking her side to side on his lap. Frankie sits forward to face him.

"I suppose so," she says, but sounds bored as she and Sherry listen to him boast about how he showed me my dad's grave. Negan doesn't seem to care, or really notice. He starts to undo the buttons on the front of Sherry's dress. I look away. He must notice because he snickers.

"Oh... the kid's shy."

Frankie tuts. "Don't embarrass him, Negan."

"I'm not embarrassing him!" he says, pulling Sherry to one side so he can speak over her shoulders. "Sure I'm not. He's just being polite, aren't you, kid?"

I don't answer, and luckily I don't have to because someone knocks on the door. Simon comes in at Negan's call to enter, carrying a leather holster and something wrapped in a silk cloth.

"Got the revolver," he says. "Locked in the armoury like you first suspected. And a holster."

"Many thanks."

Once Sherry climbs off Negan's lap, re-buttoning herself, Simon hands everything over and then leaves when he is dismissed. Negan sits forward in his seat and holds the holster and cloth out to me.

I stand up, carefully, and take them in my hands.

I unfold the cloth.

I put on the new holster.

And I fit the Colt Python into it snugly.

"Thank you," I say.

And Negan beams.

* * *

Judith wakes up from her nap by the time someone arrives to bring lunch, informing me that a plate has been left in my room for me. I consider taking Judith and her bowl with me, but I choose to leave her with Frankie because she looks lonely, after Negan took Sherry to the bedroom several minutes ago. So I go alone, to my room, where I eat, and then I go for my daily visit to Oliver in the infirmary.

"Where's Judy?" he asks me.

"With Frankie."

"Who?"

"One of Negan's wives."

Oliver looks uncomfortable at this prospect, but otherwise chooses to trust my judgement. He asks me if I went out today with Negan, that he heard rumours, so I tell him about it. Dr. Carson is sitting at his desk, reading, so Oliver is subtle while he tries to console me about what happened at the graveyard, but I don't want him to, so I change the subject. I tell him that Michonne is alive. Traded, but alive. And Oliver doesn't do or say anything for several minutes except hold his face and stare at his lap. I realise this may have been an even worse subject to bring up, so I show Oliver that Negan gave me back my father's gun.

"He gave you a weapon?" he asks.

"Sort of," I say, shrugging as I open the cylinder and spin it with my thumb so that it rattles. "No bullets."

Oliver looks disappointed, but not surprised.

I smile. "I think I'm... helping him."

Oliver frowns. "Helping him?"

"Helping him learn to n...n-ot be so cruel," I say, only hearing it outside of my head, coming from me and not Negan, I see how deluded it sounds, and the stress of knowing Oliver thinks so too twists up my tongue.

I sit back, shaking my head. Oliver sighs. He must feel sorry for me because he leans forward and reaches for my face. I pull away. Oliver pauses, waiting for the bitterness to leave my expression, and when it does he reaches for me again and this time I let him touch me. He runs his thumb across my scarred eye socket. He's so gentle. I forgot how gentle someone could touch me. I'm so used to Negan's kind of touch, dragging me here and there. I lean into Oliver's palm and I kiss it. And then I push myself closer on the bed and I kiss him.

I don't know why, but I undo the buttons on his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asks, pulling my hand away by the wrist, but I push his hand aside. He tells me Dr. Carson's only sitting with his back to us, and that his leg hurts too much for me to sit how I'm sitting, but I ignore all that and I try to touch his chest. He pushes me off. "Stop it!"

I do stop, and I try to apologise, but the words get lodged around my tongue, blocking my throat shut, and Dr. Carson turns round and asks what's going on and it's like I'm so humiliated that I can't breathe.

"Don't you see what's happening to you?" Oliver asks me angrily, buttoning himself up again. "He's brain washing you! Listen to yourself. Negan 'gave' you back your dad's gun? _He stole it! N_ _egan_ _murdered him._ What is wrong with you? You're acting just like him."

I stare at him, and the shame is hitting me over and over like waves in a rip-tide, and I know he's right but I'm so angry, so disgusted by it, by myself, that I yell at him.

"You told me we had to learn to live here! You told me there was no hope in being rescued! I'm only doing what you wanted me to do, to protect you! You said it yourself: _Nobody is coming._ " I'm so angry that I don't even stumble over the words, but I do now, as I calm down and realise how mean I sound. "You can't turn around and be angry at me f...f-or listening."

Oliver glares at me, shaking his head.

"Alexandria is _s..._ _s-_ _afe_ because of me," I go on. "But Hilltop and Kingdom and Oceanside are _gone_ now, because of—"

"Because of me!" Oliver shouts. "I know! I know that I should've stayed stayed out of the fight, so that Simon wouldn't recognise me! I know they're all gone because of me! I know they're all probably dead because of me!"

And he sits there and folds up into himself and he cries so hard that I have to stand back, all words gone from my brain like fleeing birds. I have to leave the infirmary. I have to go back to my room. I'm so angry that I want to beat my pillow or break another vase or throw my fist through the tiny window. But I don't do any of that. I just pace back and forth across the little room, which is difficult, considering there's barely a square-foot of free space between the bed and Judith's cot, so I sit on my bed and I wait to stop breathing so fast, or at all, for all I care.

Sometime after dark, there's a knock at my door.

Negan doesn't wait for my response before entering. He's carrying Judith.

"Dr. Carson said you and Oliver had a fight..."

Fear hits me across the chest. Did Dr. Carson tell him what Oliver said?

Negan sets Judith down in her cot in the corner of the room, then turns to me, with a weird, unconcerned smirk on his face, like he might think this is all just petty drama. In a patronising tone, he asks, "You wanna talk about it?"

I shrug, and the small part of me that's not terrified feels embarrassed.

With a small groan, Negan sits on the chair next to Judith's cot, opposite me. "I get it," he says. "I know how hard it can be to accept change — to get on the right team. It's difficult for both of you, adjusting to your lives here. But you're both coming along well."

I frown at him.

"What, you disagree?" Negan asks. "Well, trust me. Okay? You do _not_ need to be scared anymore."

And I don't say anything for a minute. Mostly because it's difficult to believe, but also because I catch myself wanting to believe it.

"Enough of this self pity," Negan says suddenly, getting up so he can reach across the room to jostle me by my shoulder. "Come out with me again tomorrow, what do you say we go fishing or something?"

I watch him to check he's not joking.

I shrug.

I nod.

"Alright," Negan says, grinning. "It'll be fun. A real family bonding experience, or whatever the fuck people like to call those sorts of things. It's a shame Oliver can't come along, what with his leg. Maybe next time, eh?"

Again, I nod.

* * *

The next day, Negan drives us to a lake a few miles away. We stay all day, sitting on the dock with our fishing rods, guarded by Dwight and Arat and many more Saviors than I'd expected, which makes me realise that this, too, is another attempt to dangle me in the runaway communities' noses. Still, though, Negan _does_ seem to want this to be some kind of 'bonding exercise', because he asks, "Those fellas you wasted in my courtyard all those weeks ago weren't your first, were they?"

I look at him, my eyebrows creasing.

"I had a hunch even before that, though," Negan elaborates. "Shit, wasn't it the first thing I ever said to you? That you looked like a little serial killer? And I mean, this hunch, I'm like... pretty much one-hundred percent sure that I'm right on it, but, I gotta ask you once and for all myself. Who else have you killed? Lay it all out like a soap opera for me..."

He waits, twitching his fishing rod.

I shrug my shoulders uncomfortably.

"Oh! Come _on!_ " Negan begs. "Tell me I haven't been barking up the wrong tree this whole time. I might actually die from embarrassment if I find out your first ever dropped bodies were those you planted on my fucking doorstep! I _know_ it ain't true!"

Something in my face must tell him he's right, because he grins at me.

"Well, then… do fucking tell."

So I do.

"I've caused people to die," I say, "and I've p...p-ut down people who I cared about who had died, or were going to die..."

"Pfft," he says. "That's child's play."

I nod in agreement, frowning to myself.

"Tell me you ain't finished," he says.

"I w...w-asn't." I look out over the water for several seconds, not wanting to look at Negan's face as I tell him, carefully, "I've killed people attacking my family, and my home… I put my mom down. She was the first. She was dying… and…"

"Go on..."

"There was one kid," I say, quieter, "he was part of a group attacking us. Me and Judith and some others were hiding in the w...w-oods, and he came along. He put down his gun. He told us he was trying to run away... I shot him."

Negan watches me.

He nods, slowly.

"There it is," he says, "there's the little serial killer I called dibs on."

I don't look at him, but I can feel my face turning hot. I shut my eye. It's strange how shame makes you ache, like _physically_ ache.

"I look forward to seeing the damage you do in the future, kid," Negan adds. "I sure fucking do."

"No," I say, sternly, and quietly. "I won't. You said you wouldn't make me."

"And I won't." Negan grins at me. "I won't even _have_ to. Because you'll do it yourself anyway. You're a killer. Through and through. At some point or another, you'll see it, too. _T_ _rust me…_ "

I glare out at the lake and try to push the fear away, the fear that I don't have to wait and see because I already know it's true. The fear of that? It's in my skin. It's in my bones.

Negan's fishing line jolts and he reels it in, shouting as he snatches a big mouth off his hook. It's small, too small to make a meal. He doesn't throw it back, though, and instead puts it in a bucket of water between us.

"What about that s...s-tuff you said yesterday," I ask, "about me... rubbing off on you?"

"What about it?" Negan asks.

I shake my head and shrug, realising it's not worth it.

"Look, kid," Negan says, grimacing in concentration out at the lake with his legs spread wide at the knees in his camping chair. "I'm just trying to show you your options, your potential. I'm not gonna sit around and tell you who I think you should grow up to be. I'm just telling you what's right in front of me, right now. The rest is up to you. It is."

He looks at me and shrugs.

"I'm just saying that I'm not gonna judge you if you go the route that seems obvious," he explains, letting out an exasperated laugh. "I mean what are you so afraid of? You and your father? Fuck, I mean... you don't have to act so high and mighty all the time. Sometimes it's alright to just accept you've done bad things. You face it and you accept it and you move on, like a man."

"I've seen what people can turn into," I tell him. "Some people, s...s-ome ways of life, _should_ be feared."

"Oh, I agree," Negan says. "Some things are worse than being killed. Some o' the things that people can do to each other… it chills even _me_ to the bone. If you'd believe that."

I don't, so I narrow my eye at him.

Negan looks at me, too, but his expression is suddenly very sullen. "I'm sorry," he says, "if anything like that has ever happened to you."

I watch him.

I shake my head and say, "Not to me..."

Negan frowns curiously.

Just then my line jerks.

"Yank that bastard!" Negan shouts.

I do, and when the fish stops fighting I reel in as quickly as I can. It struggles, but eventually I bring it in and Negan helps me snatch it off the hook. It's a bass, Negan says. Big enough that it jostles me around. Negan groans proudly as he splashes it in the bucket with the little big mouth, then holds up his palm to me with a cheer. I frown at him, confused.

"You know what a high-five _is_ , right?"

I nod to him.

"Well, don't leave me hanging!"

Awkwardly, I slap his palm with mine.

"Fuck yeah!" Negan shouts. "Big bass. Big _ass_ bass!"

I reset my reel and recast it. I notice I'm smiling so, quickly, I stop.

"You were saying," Negan tells me, not seeming to notice, "something about… oh, I forget…"

I watch him, wondering if he's telling the truth.

And I guess I decide he is, because I find myself saying, "My dad, he did something once, to save me, and it g...g-ot Oliver hurt..."

Negan pulls a doubtful face, taken off guard by this fact, and then his expression goes very serious and thoughtful.

"Oliver was different, after what happened to him," I explain.

"Different how?"

"He used to believe in people," I answer, "but after he found us again, after he and Carol s...s-ave us, from these cannibals, things were never the same. It was good to be back together again, all of us, but... I don't know... Oliver was more shut off... I don't think he ever forgave my dad for wh...wh-at he did, but… I think he tried to."

"You think your dad deserved that? Forgiveness?"

I shrug, because I don't know, so instead I say, "I think about what Dad did a lot…"

"And?"

"And I think it was the worst thing he ever did," I answer, honestly, looking Negan in the face. "Worse than killing people, w...w-orse than causing people to die. He left people behind. It was something he and I always disagreed on."

Negan nods, but doesn't ask me any more about it. I'm glad for it. He even tells me some things about himself, too, because I ask him about them. He tells me about his life before the Turn, how he was a sports coach at a school near here, how his wife, Lucille, was dying of cancer, even after things went south with the world. He tells me I was braver at thirteen than he was as a grown man back then, because he couldn't put his wife down himself at the time, like I did for my mom. He tells me how Lucille died hating him.

We catch a few more fish by the time Simon's voice comes in through the walkie-talkie.

" _Negan! Negan, come in!"_

Negan sighs grumpily. "Sigh, didn't I tell you I was busy today?"

" _You did, boss. But you_ _lot are_ _gon_ _na_ _want to get back for this."_

"For what?"

" _It's happening,"_ Simon says through the walkie-talkie. _"The King is on the attack."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, VebralWalker, for getting Carl his father's gun.
> 
> As always,  
> Happy reading.


End file.
